Chapter 1:
The Policeman's Tale:
Robert Boone, the newly appointed Sergeant Constable of the Berkshire Constabulary's Middleton Leigh Village and Township was a man who valued above everything else his integrity and his ability to stick purely to facts above every form of sentiment or wishful thinking- a quality that had earned him rapid promotions within the force. He had a forceful manner which was concealed in a gentle and persuasive method of questioning that had helped him gain many valuable clues and tips and had helped him solve a good number of local mysteries, we shall not call them crimes.
His greatest gift was however his very tone which inspired trust. When Sergeant Boone spoke he could be trusted, his words carried a gentle soothing tone that could invoke trust in the most suspicious of people to cooperate with the law. His reputation as a man of sense and integrity was legendary across the Middleton Leigh Village Council and the local circles.
And yet on that night, the eighteenth of November- Sergeant Boone had personally destroyed the precious castle of integrity, reputation and trust he had built over a long time. He had raved and behaved like a lunatic and had to be given a compulsory five month sabbatical for a complete physical check ups and also to visit a pschyciatrist. His Bosses opinions were divided- The ones who were like him in many ways said very kindly that he was overstretched and needed a break. The ones who were political refrained to comment- too scared to antagonize either his supporters or his enemies (he had made many - as all men of high integrity usually do). His enemies of course were the most volatile- demanding that he be removed from the force for fabricating the most childish of stories.
And to top it all was the fact that Sergeant Boone who more than fifty witnesses could swear as having raved for more than an hour at the 'Silver Lady' about some weird stories on witches or wizards- had no recollection of any such talk and refused to believe he had talked or even hinted on such nonsense even as a joke.
It was Albert Moran- the sixty nine year old owner of the 'Silver Lady' who spoke of the incident. His response to the police enquiry on the exact incidents of the eighteenth was rather lengthy. Moran observed that Sergeant Boone had come rushing into the 'Silver Lady' and had told the public assembled there that a wizard was out to kill him. Moran and the public had initially assumed a wizard to be police slang for a killer but when they learned it was a man who could do magic they were nonplussed. The more imaginative ones (there were a very few) suggested exorcism believing the wizard to have been a ghost or a spirit of some king, the lesser imaginative ones who were shell shocked began to buy him some drinks and began spreading the story to every one around.
The transcript was recorded for enquiry by the local policemen after Boone had asked for police assistance and had called for backup for attacking a malevolent 'Wizard'- after which his superiors had ordered him to be relieved temporarily. It was Constable Higgins who did the recording:
" I had always been puzzled by the latest tenant at ' Bravehurst Cottage'- Mrs Andrea Tonks who moved in nine months ago. It began nearly six months ago when her neighbour Simon Muggeridge (who by the way has been residing in these parts for over twenty years) and informed me over a drink of ale, that he had been hearing strange popping sounds from within the place and had actually once witnessed Mrs. Tonks grandsons hair changing color instantaneously to a hideous green to match the color of the grass. Of course i immediately put it down to the four pints which he had just drowned himself in. However during patrol duty almost three months ago, i actually saw an extremely dirty and scraggy salesman who looked unshaven and dishevelled, who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere with a pop exactly as Simon had once told me. Out of sheer gut instinct(Sergeant Boone was always one to announce his impeccable integrity, he was no cheap stalker following someone for curiousity) i followed him to Mrs. Tonks place. I saw the lady come out and pull out a stick and wave her hand...sort of like a opera guy and the creature (i cannot call him a person) entered her house. I decided to follow and ask her for an explanation, i could do that... farmer smith had complained of a vandalizing tramp to whose description the man fitted to a tee. As i walked towards the door, somewhere near the garden, i felt myself being flung by something huge and rose to find myself twenty feet from the door though uninjured.
There was something strange and i knew it was not something i could report to my superiors, but i kept a watch and saw strange things happening. I saw people...they looked very uncomfortable in the baggies, appearing out of thin air looking furitively and rushing to the door all having similar sticks. Then one day, i saw a funny looking lady- a formidable old one- tough- who i thought had noticed me but did not appear to give me a second glance and a half hour later- two blokes corner me and fish out the stick- one of them who i remember being called 'hawlish...' or something waved it over my face. Nothing happened of course but they seemed satisfied, and they did not even strike me with it. I knew then that there was something very odd. The lady never talked to anyone, the boy was almost six but did not attend the local elementary and the story of his hair colours especially the rarer ones kept repeating themselves.
And yesterday was the limit. I am not by nature a peeping tom but i could not resist. At the very spot where the ugly unkempt tramp had shown up, there was a huge tall man amost eight feet tall, wearing a hideous coat that looked to have been made out of bearskin in the fifteenth century, and he was waving a pink umbrella though it was a bright sunlit morning. I decided to take the bull by the horn and approached him. He did not ignore me, rather seemed highly eager to talk to me, told me how i had got 'maggle' clothing and what had i got for young teddy? 'Maggle'? I had asked him and he gave me a horrible grin-i was just about to book him for indecent appearance when he showed me drawing a cage from his coat ( i was shocked that his coat could hold something like that) which had a ferret- the largest i had ever seen... and it actually told me 'good morning fatso' (At this point the three policemen taking the report needed a ten minute break to choke down the laughter at the talking ferret). I immediately questioned him on if he had a license to own a ferret and he pretended not to understand or hear me and looked thoroughly confused, maybe slightly ashamed (it puzzled me). 'Yeh are a maggle then arent ya'- he said followed by 'I shudnt have shown yeh this'. I could not comprehend only followed babble as i realized he was trying to make conversation- at this juncture i lost it- i heard a word 'dubbledore' and told him i did not care whatever the dubbledore thing was. Suddenly the giant picked me up, shook me and threw me a dozen feet away with a huge roar. I could comprehend words like 'Greatest wizard ever'...'Great Man'...and 'Filthy insulting maggle...or was it muggle' ...he chased me on and i thought it was over, before the old woman of a few days ago appeared as always out of thin air and seemed to be rebuking the giant. I realized this was the chance and took to my heels running all the way to the 'Silver Lady'. I have been doing some thinking...the lady is a magic witch and they are all wizards.. i need some back up..."
Three days after, Sergeant Boone was taken to london to see a top pschyciatrist. After the consultation he looked strangely blank and was reported to have denied ever having recorded such a speech. Rumour has it that his fiction was a matter of great seriousness for the Home Office, and reached the Home Minister himself who had commanded Boone to appear before the Prime Minister who would be highly amused (Or at least the Home Office Thought). Nobody knew what happened but in the two weeks to come, Sergeant Boone had been promoted and sent away to Yorkshire. Mrs Tonks moved out of the village to a place called 'Ottery St Catchpole' (Not many had heard of it) as reported by the village maid - the only person who had been in close proximity to Mrs. Tonks.